Monday, December 29, 2008

The City - The Premiere

The Jay/Whitney saga: Blah. The harried atmosphere in the back of a fashion show: Meh.

The most fascinating thing about The City is going to be the juxtaposition between Los Angeles and New York society.

In LA, any flat-chested Rocky Mountain bumpkin can fake marry a millionaire and end up on the cover of Maxim. Lauren Conrad's parents, with their flashy Laguna Beach mansion, seem to epitomize Orange County nouveau riche, yet LC is the It Girl of young Hollywood.

But in New York, if you're not a Van derWoodsen, you're never really going to fit in with high society. The folks uptown don't even take Countess LuAnn De Le Sepps seriously, and she's married to a count, for god's sake! Breeding, people. Breeding.

Of course, this is all from the point of view of someone who's only spent a day in NYC (I feel pretty confident about my assessment of Los Angeles, however). To my knowledge, "high society" in Chicago doesn't exist. Like Jay and his downtown friends, we have our fair share of doofus hipsters who drink PBR in Pilsen and wear fedoras in Logan Square. But unlike The City crew, our Greasers don't have routine run-ins with the Socs.

Maybe I should look to other sources for my urban anthropological research than basic cable reality programs. But that sounds like work.

So Olivia Palermo and Blair Waldorf will have to serve as evil Old Money ambassadors. These ladies, with their deb balls and dinner parties and name-dropping, are a much more intimidating lot than their surgically-enhanced counterparts out in SoCal. Good luck to Whitney.

On a lighter note, they were totally playing Don't Be Cruel by Bobby Brown at that club where the fight went down. You could tell how edited the scene was, because the music kept shifting between DBC and My Prerogative. I must find this magical place.-Liz